


Pink's Confession

by littlemissvincentvega



Series: Reservoir Thots [21]
Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 15:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19065397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissvincentvega/pseuds/littlemissvincentvega
Summary: two mini fics from prompts from a list i reblogged on tumblr (originally by @hellsdemonictrinity) that my friend asked me to do for any of the dogs :>





	Pink's Confession

**15:**

**“Shouldn’t you be with him?”**

You scoff at Brown, shaking your head slightly. He’s sat at the bar beside you sulking, not making eye contact, his chin resting on the bar top. “Baby, I told you, I’m not interested in that asshole,” you assure him, placing a caring hand on his shoulder.

He shuffles in his seat and looks up at you, a tinge of hurt in his eyes. “Promise?”

“I promise,” you smile, rolling your eyes slightly. He’s a little tipsy after a few beers and, after spotting you talking to Blonde over by the table all of the Dogs are at, his mood had sunk a fair bit.

As he hears your words, Brown sits up in the stool and sticks out his little finger, the look of a deadly serious child on his face. “Pinky swear?”

You stifle a laugh and link your pinky with his, pulling his hand to your lips and kissing it softly. “Pinky swear.”

“Okay, I believe you.”

“What?” huffs a voice, and you turn around-- it’s Mr. Pink.

You chuckle at him. “We were making a pinky promise, not talking about you. Don’t worry, there’s no conspiracy.”

“Oh, right,” he replies, taking a seat on the stool beside you. He leans over to look at Brown. “Hey, Mr. Shit, we’re leaving soon. Gonna go to Ed’s place for more drinks and stuff.”

“Who’re  _you_ callin’ Mr. Shit, Mr. Asshole?!” Brown splutters, his eyes flickering fro open to closed. 

“It’s no use, Pink,” you smile, “he’s gone. Look at him.”

Pink shakes his head at your drunk mess of a boyfriend and actually chuckles to himself. “Well,” he says, lowering himself off of the stool, “I can always throw a glass’a water on him if that helps.” He’s joking, of course (or half joking, at least), and you giggle at him as he returns to the other Dogs.

You pat Brown’s back and stroke his hair gently. “C’mon, sweets, we’re going to Eddie’s,” you say softly, planting a kiss on his temple.

“Hmm? Who’s that, your husband?”

“No, I’m already taken by some dorky thief. Come on, get up,” you urge with a smile, helping him off of the stool. He struggles to walk properly, and you end up having to call White over. The two of you have Brown’s arms slung over your shoulders, and each of the Dogs take turns with you as you all walk to Eddie’s, everyone slightly tipsy and giggly.

**70:**

**“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”**

You shrug, feeling tears forming in your eyes. “I don’t know.”

“C’mon, I mean, we almost fuckin’  _died_ in that robbery-- you could’a been shot just like that!” Pink snaps his fingers at you, his eyes wide. “You should know by now how I feel about you!”

“Well excuse the fuck outta me for not realising, you know, what with you acting like an obnoxious asshole 50 per cent of the time!” you argue, folding your arms, pacing back and forth in his kitchen. 

He sighs, trying to collect himself. Pink never was one for dealing well with frustration. “You’d think that working together for almost two years would be enough for my... my admiration of you to show!” he splutters, terrified of your reaction.

“It’s not always easy to tell, Steve.”

“There’s one, though. I told you my damn name, for starters. You  _know_ I wouldn’t be caught dead givin’ out that shit to anyone else!”

“I mean, true, but--”

He interrupts you, determined to show how he feels. “(Y/N), you’re a fuckin’ dream, okay? And I’m not bringin’ this up to make you feel bad, I’d never want to do that, but,” he scrambles to unbutton his shirt, revealing his torso, “if I didn’t care, this wouldn’t be here. You know that.”

You flinch at the sight of his scar. Not six months before now, Pink had taken a bullet for you during a heist with a few other guys your boss had strung together. It was, to say the least, pretty damn traumatising to see him writhe around like that-- you had been certain he was going to die, but he pulled through. And you stayed with him every second of the way. “I know,” you say quietly, sniffling in an effort to keep the tears in.

“Like, Christ, you know I act like a professional in this job-- I have to, it’s my thing. It’s important to me. But feelings are fuckin’ difficult, and when they’re this strong, it’s-- I don’t know, hard to cope with hurtin’ your feelings, (Y/N).”

Unable to process all of this (Pink is hardly ever this open about his emotions), you pull him into a tight hug, feeling the stream of tears make its way down your cheeks. “I know, I love you,” you sniffle, burying your face into his chest.

His shirt is still unbuttoned, and you feel his warm skin against your face and chest. He relaxes a little, wrapping his arms around you shakily. The two of you, although having known each other for this long, hardly ever show physical affection-- feeling how fragile Pink is in this moment is almost heartbreaking. You can tell he doesn’t get hugs that often, but you definitely plan to change that.

You stay there for a few minutes, hugging in the silence with your eyes squeezed shut before he pulls away, still holding you. With a forlorn smile, Pink plants a kiss on your forehead and sighs. “I love you too.”


End file.
